My eyes shifted to hers, seeing the way she absorbed my stare. She knew when my thoughts were outside the four walls of this bedroom. She knew when my thoughts strayed, when my heart changed its pace, when a glaze settled over my eyes. I held her look and never answered, my hand moving to her flat stomach. That fantasy was for a time in the future, a dream on the horizon. Not today. Not tomorrow. Time would ravage our appearances, but my love for her was a candle with an endless wick. It would burn—always. For her and no one else.

She didn’t ask again. “So…who is Stasia?”

The party was days ago. Already forgotten about it. “Socialite.”

“I mean, was she his girlfriend or something?”

“No. She’s trying to hook him because he’s rich and powerful.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she did the same with me.”

Her eyes immediately changed, reacting in jealousy.

“Before we met.” I’d always tell the truth, and if she didn’t want to hear it, she should stop the line of questioning. “She went for me first since I’m the count.”

Her eyes dropped, looking at her hand on my stomach.

My hand slid up her neck and to her cheek. “But I’ve found my countess. And she’s far more beautiful than any other woman in that room.”

Her eyes lifted again, a slight smile entering her gaze. The tightness of her features faded when she heard my praise. The previous jealousy faded until it disappeared entirely. “Je t’aime…”

My thumb brushed her bottom lip, and I stared at her mouth, the source of those poetic words. The waves of her love washed over me, brought me deep under the sea until I couldn’t breathe. But I’d rather suffocate with her than take a full breath without her. “Je t’aime.”

“Mon amour…” Her quiet voice came from the couch in the sitting area. Her book was on the coffee table in front of her. The daylight streamed through the open windows and blanketed her beautiful face in a wondrous glow.

I stared at her from my seat at the desk, taking in the scene like a work of art. It could easily be painted and hung over someone’s mantel. I closed my laptop and moved to the couch across from her. Arms on my thighs. Hands together. Eyes on her face. Work required my attention, but it became secondary to her needs. “Oui, chérie?”

Her legs were crossed, and she held herself with poise, her back straight, her hands together on her lap. She had all the qualities of royalty without even trying. Most of the qualities she possessed were innate and didn’t need to be taught. “You’ll give me anything I ask for?”

The softness in my features immediately turned stony. “Except one.”